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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391251">I Think I Might've Left Myself Behind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetYourCapeOn/pseuds/GetYourCapeOn'>GetYourCapeOn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wonderland [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batwoman (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abuse, Child Abuse, Dissociation, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, Gen, Mental Illness, continued blatant thievery of lewis carroll's work, graphic discussion of mental illness, luke and sophie showing up in later chapters, mentions of homophobia in passing in regards to kate's time in the military, there will be some sophie/kate but it felt like a lie to tag the fic that and give false hope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 12:27:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,434</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391251</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GetYourCapeOn/pseuds/GetYourCapeOn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to My Name Is(n't) Alice</p>
<p>Free from Wonderland, Alice has to figure out how to make sense of the world around her. She doesn't know who she is anymore and she has to come to terms with who she used to be.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beth Kane | Alice &amp; Kate Kane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Wonderland [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812343</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you for the kind support from the previous work! I'm still working on this specific work but I figured that I have enough to post at least some of it today.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first night is hard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice sits on a stool at the counter in a kitchen that is so shiny and bright and filled with so many unfamiliar things and watches her sister pull out a loaf of bread and some meat. She asks Alice if she will eat it and Alice nods and watches. Her sister puts the sandwich on the plate and cuts it in half. Diagonally. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s a strangely kind gesture that it makes Alice stare at it for far too long. Mary has to gently touch her shoulder and remind her to eat it. The bread is soft, yielding easily as she bites into it. It’s delicious. Alice can’t remember the last time she had something so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She finishes it in silence, hunched over her plate as if worried it’ll be snatched away in a moment. She doesn’t know why she’s so afraid but she is. Kate makes two more sandwiches, one for herself and one for Mary, all of them cut diagonally. Alice takes the water Kate offers her with a quiet thanks as she finishes off her sandwich. It’s late now and it takes a long moment but Alice spots the time on a clock on the wall. The numbers aren’t written properly--they’re X’s and I’s and V’s--but she works out what time it is based on the position of the hands. It’s nearing ten and it’s been almost eight hours since Alice left Wonderland. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to sleep?” Kate asks when she spots Alice stifling a yawn. “I’m sure all that stress is exhausting.” But </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kate</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the one who looks exhausted and pale and so Alice nods even though she’s certain that she won’t be able to sleep. “You can have my bed. Do you want me to stay with you? I’m happy to sleep on the couch or on the floor. Believe me, I’ve slept on worse.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice shakes her head immediately, suddenly afraid that the Caterpillar or the Queen will find her if she’s alone for even a moment. “I do not want to be alone,” Alice confesses quietly. This place is just--it’s big and small all at the same time and there is so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>light </span>
  </em>
  <span>and sound and she’s afraid that she’s going to wake up and she’ll be beneath the tree again and the Queen will be screaming for her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” Mary says and she’s smiling gently again, like she believes in Alice. “You never have to be alone again. And if Kate can’t be there for whatever reason, you’ll have me. I promise.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice looks up and studies Mary’s face, searching for any sign of deception. But she is warm and soft and bright and Alice knows she can trust her. So Alice nods her agreement and Mary smiles and whisks away the empty plate but leaves the cup so that Alice can finish it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kate leads the way to the bedroom and shows Alice the bathroom attached to it. It’s huge and shiny just like the kitchen and she stares helplessly at the shower before Kate shows her how to use it. And then Kate sits in the doorway, her back facing Alice to give her privacy but staying close so that Alice doesn’t have to be afraid. The towel that Kate had handed her is still in her hands and Alice has to bury her face in it to muffle the quiet sob that she can’t quite keep down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t work very well but Kate doesn’t turn, determined to give her some sense of privacy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shower is confusing enough that Alice can distract herself trying to figure it out. There are nozzles on the wall that Kate had managed to make work as well as the biggest showerhead Alice has ever seen right above her. The shower itself is enormous and could easily fit four people. Until the Queen came, Alice had always washed herself in her sink. But the Queen demands perfection and that means that Alice has to be clean so she had been allowed to use the claustrophobic shower in the basement that is always frigid in the winter. This shower, though, jets out hot water almost immediately after she turns it on. She jolts back and has to blink hard against the familiarity of the pain. It’s not tea. It’s not too hot. It’s just hotter than she expected. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns the dial and the water cascading above her goes cold but it’s better this way. Familiar. Comforting. She shivers as she uses Kate’s shampoo and she washes carefully around the bandage wrapped around her inner elbow. Mary had reminded her to keep it on for the time being even though Alice isn’t entirely sure why but she trusts Mary. She showers as quickly as she can and turns off the water, dripping and shaking as the bathroom goes silent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stands there for a long time before she cautiously slides the shower door open and grabs the towel Kate left her. Kate is still sitting in the doorway, her head resting against the wall, waiting for Alice. The towel is enormous and soft and warm and Alice has never in her life felt anything so plush. She stands in the shower and wraps it around herself and does her best to keep her teeth from chattering. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels clean now. Like everything has been washed away. She’s still afraid for Mouse. She’s still terrified that the Queen and the Caterpillar will come for her. But she’s okay enough to remember how to breathe and she knows that her book is surely gone but it’s still with her. She still knows every word, every line. She knows that on page 52 there is smear and page 7 had been dog-eared by someone else and the crease is permanently worn into the book. She knows that the number 60 is printed at an angle and she knows that the dust jacket is held lovingly together by tape on the inside. She knows the exact number of stitches holding the pages together. She might not have the book but--maybe she doesn’t need it. Maybe she can be okay without it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rests her forehead against the cold tile and tries to breathe. She's exhausted and, after glancing over her shoulder at Kate, she thinks that her sister might be just as tired as she is. She pulls the towel closer and squeezes her eyes shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She must be Beth. That must be who she was before she became Alice. But she doesn't remember Beth. Why can't she remember her? Can she remember anything about being a child? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She remembers Kate. She remembers Kate laughing with her and protecting her. She doesn't remember their father. She doesn't remember herself. She has vague memories of a swing set. She knows they had a mother and that their mother is dead. But--she doesn't remember what she looked like. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's frustrating and confusing and she hits the tile with her free hand and the pain centers her. So she hits it again with the side of her fist and she's suddenly afraid that Mouse has always known that she hasn't always been Alice and she hits the wall again and cries in frustration because she just can't remember. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand covers hers before she can hit the wall again. "Alice," Kate says gently and she pulls Alice into her arms, holding her close even though Alice is still soaking wet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Why can't I remember?" Alice cries and she wants to hit something again. Anything. But Kate is holding her in a way that keeps her arms trapped between them and it should be suffocating but it isn't because this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kate </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Kate would never hurt her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Alice… you've been through a lot. Sometimes people, especially kids, cling to anything that helps them. For you, it was easier to forget. I don't know everything they did to you but it's not your fault, no matter how often they blamed you for it. And even if you never remember who you were before, you will </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>be my sister."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice sniffles a little, reeling from all of this still. How old had she been when she became Alice? How old was she when Beth died? How long has it been? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How old were we?” she asks because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span> to know. She doesn’t even know how old she is now, quite frankly. All she knows is that she’s almost the same age as Mouse and he is 21. They had celebrated it last month. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thirteen,” Kate says. “That was nine years ago.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thirteen. Alice doesn’t know how to process that number, not really. She doesn’t know what life should be like for a thirteen-year-old. She doesn’t know what books they would read, what friends they would have, what they would be learning. Alice hasn’t read anything other than Alice in Wonderland. Alice has never really learned. Alice knows a little math but not much. She knows enough to cook and measure and that means that she can figure out that she is twenty-two years old. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It feels like an enormously big number and yet--she feels like there’s no way that she has </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> lived twenty-two years. Her life as Alice feels endless, like there was no beginning and no middle, just </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But now it is over. Now that chapter of her life is over and she won’t be going back to Wonderland if Kate has anything to do with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re quiet for a long time. Long enough for Alice to start shivering because she is still wet and the lingering heat from the shower has dissipated. “You need to get dressed before you freeze,” Kate says as she gently pulls away. The cold is even more pervasive without her and Alice nods numbly as she steps out of the shower and into Kate’s room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bedroom itself has a high ceiling and the bed is just as enormous as it was earlier in the day. The suitcases on the floor don’t make sense but she doesn’t question it even though there’s the itch to clean it up. But these are </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kate’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>things and she knows better than to touch them. So she stands in the doorway to the bathroom as Kate fumbles around in the suitcases, eventually withdrawing a shirt and some soft pants. She slides open a drawer filled with </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>more clothes and pulls out something small and black. She hands all of it to Alice and awkwardly steps around her and back into the bathroom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m kind of gross from today,” Kate explains. “I’m going to shower but I’ll only be a few minutes. So get dressed and make yourself comfortable. It’ll be like when we were kids--we used to share a room. We would talk after our parents turned the lights off and Mom would come in sometimes to tell us that we had to sleep or we’d be exhausted. I know you don’t remember but I do. And I’ll tell you anything you want to know about who you used to be.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles at Alice and Alice turns to place the clothes on the bed as Kate steps into the shower. Alice glances nervously towards the door before picking through the pile. Kate left her soft black underwear and a sports bra so soft that Alice wonders how it can even be real. The shirt says </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gotham Knights</span>
  </em>
  <span> on the front and there’s a white circle with red stitching on the front. The pants are black and red and nothing like Alice has ever worn before. Mouse has worn things like this but Alice has always worn dresses. Pretty girls shouldn’t wear such ugly things. That’s what the Queen always says, at least. And it makes Alice angry to think that the Queen has always gotten to choose what Alice wears and what her hair looks like and so Alice pulls on the underwear and the too-big black shirt with its gaudy red letters and the ugly pants with deep pockets. They’re soft and comfortable and they smell clean--like a warm breeze in spring, almost. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can hear Kate showering and she carefully runs her fingers through her wet hair, trying to work the tangles free to occupy her time. She knows that Kate had told her that she can </span>
  <em>
    <span>make herself comfortable</span>
  </em>
  <span> but the thought of touching anything that doesn’t belong to her makes her balk. Instead, she focuses on what she can do and does her best not to look at the mirror where several photographs are placed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shower cuts off and Alice jumps, feeling guilty for simply existing in this space. She doesn’t know what to do with herself so she anxiously waits, focusing on her feet because it’s the only neutral place to look. She can hear Kate moving around and there’s a toilet flushing and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do other than simply stand here. Eventually, Kate steps out of the bathroom and speaks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I left a spare toothbrush next to the sink,” she says. “Do you want to try to sleep or would you rather stay up?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alice hesitates before walking back to the bathroom. There is the promised toothbrush next to the sink--blue, unlike everything else in Kate’s room--and picks it up. There’s a tube of toothpaste next to it that she doesn’t recognize but she uses it regardless. Once her teeth are clean, she awkwardly steps back into Kate’s bedroom. Kate is similarly dressed in soft pants but her shirt reads </span>
  <em>
    <span>GOTHAM CROWS</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Her hair is still soaking wet and the makeup that Alice hadn’t realized she was wearing is gone. She looks younger now, her eyelashes paler and less defined. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re tired,” Alice points out softly. “We should sleep.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kate nods and pulls back the covers on the bed. They sheets are light green plaid and Kate picks a side of the bed and sits down before beckoning Alice over to join her. “Let me know if you get too hot or need another blanket,” Kate says as Alice sits on the other side of the bed. The mattress is firm but it sinks around her in a strange way. The bed she had back in Wonderland is nothing like this. Kate notes her hesitation and takes Alice’s hand to guide her to lie down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to leave the light on?” Kate asks and Alice shakes her head as she follows Kate’s silent instructions and lays down. Kate tosses the covers over her before rolling over and turning off the light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The curtains are still partially open and the lights from the city are enough to illuminate the room partially. Alice can still see Kate’s face but she does her best not to stare. Instead, she looks up at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can hear the cars on the road outside. There are voices out there that carry up to the window. Alice doesn’t know what they’re saying but she can </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. She can hear a fan moving air around but she doesn’t see one. She’s so used to the stillness of Wonderland that everything here feels like it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>much</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The blankets on top of her are soft and the pillow beneath her head is firm but immediately adjusts to her head. It’s so much nicer than what she’s used to and she spends far too long struggling to relax before finally pushing the pillow towards the headboard so that she can put her head on the mattress instead. The pillow she has always had is so thin that this feels excessive. She rolls onto her side and watches the rise and fall of Kate’s chest. She’s asleep, Alice marvels. She looks peaceful now, no longer worried or afraid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nine years. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s how long it’s been since they last saw each other. Alice doesn’t remember it but Kate does. The agony on Kate’s face, the tears in her eyes--how long had she been like that? Has she felt like that every day since Beth disappeared? Or has Alice’s return simply brought up those fears? Had Kate recovered and moved on? Is Alice reopening wounds that have long since healed? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No--no. If Kate didn’t want her, Kate wouldn’t have gone looking for her. Because that’s what happened, wasn’t it? Because all those years ago--Alice had gotten to the phone, she remembers. There had been a nail and she had gone up the stairs and called their dad and then… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that there is more to that memory. She knows that she heard Kate’s voice but she doesn’t remember why. Had Kate gone to the house? Had she been on the phone? Alice doesn’t know and Kate is asleep and Alice hates that she can’t remember enough. She flips over again, surprised when the mattress doesn’t move beneath her. Whatever it’s made out of is so dense that Kate doesn’t even twitch. Alice decides to focus on the mattress, pressing her hand into it and lifting it, watching the mattress rise slowly to flatten again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s unlike anything Alice has ever seen and she contents herself with pressing against for several moments before her eyes start to grow heavy and she finally closes her eyes and falls asleep. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The sound of hushed voices brings her back to the surface. Kate's side of the bed is empty and Alice nearly panics before she sees her sister in the doorway. Her head is in the hallway but she's mostly inside. The door is as closed as possible while still allowing Kate room. There's low light filtering in and Alice can see the tension in her sister's shoulders. She can’t make out the words but Kate is clearly upset and the other voice is male. Low. Authoritative. Their father, probably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice sits up on the too-comfortable bed and draws her knees to her chest, just watching. It takes a moment for Kate to turn around but then she is looking at Alice like her heart has broken. Even worse than when she had first seen her. The door opens a little wider and there’s their father. His tie is loosened and his shoulders are slack and the half-light from the hallway would make him terrifying if he didn’t look just as heartbroken as Kate does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” Alice asks, her voice soft, afraid of breaking this strange, tense silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate’s hand is on the door and she’s leaning against the doorframe, physically blocking their father as he tries to take a step into the room. “Not in here,” Kate warns. “She should feel safe in here.” He looks at Kate like he might argue before nodding. He runs a tired hand over his face and steps back. “Do you feel up to talking, Alice?” Kate’s voice is gentle now, comforting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice wonders what time it is but she nods anyways. She cautiously gets out of the bed, carefully pulling the covers up so that it looks undisturbed before she steps barefoot across the floor. Kate steps back to let Alice pass in front of her before they move into the living room. There’s an enormous black mirror on the wall for some reason and Alice wonders why anyone would want something like that in their home but everything here is so </span>
  <em>
    <span>strange</span>
  </em>
  <span> that it’s just one of a thousand things she wants to ask about. But now isn’t the time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate sits on the couch and gently takes Alice’s hand to sit her down next to her. Their father sits in a chair across from them and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. The room is lit by a single tall lamp in the corner that reflects off of the enormous windows but Alice can still see that the sky is beginning to grey and she realizes that it must be early in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alice…” their father begins and Alice feels sick because whatever he says is going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “We raided the house. Do you--were you aware of the large freezer in a shed on the property?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. That is where the Caterpillar works. Skin requires proper temperatures in order to be appropriately grafted,” Alice says. The look her father gives her is pained but he doesn’t address it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a freezer with a lock on it,” he prompts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice shakes her head almost violently. “I can’t touch things that aren’t mine,” she says, feeling the edges of panic start to creep up on her. “I can’t touch it because it is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> and under </span>
  <em>
    <span>no circumstances </span>
  </em>
  <span>may I put my hands on anything that does not belong to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Kate says as she wraps her arm around Alice’s shoulders. “You’re safe here, remember?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember how you got there? Do you remember the crash? Your mother in the front seat?” their father asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice shakes her head for a moment before pausing. “There was a river,” she says quietly. She can remember the frigid water on her skin. The taste of it in her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He exchanges a look with Kate that is serious and relieved and heartbroken all at once. It's unsettling but then he turns his gaze on her and it's intense and she feels like he's looking for something before he drops his head in disappointment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice freezes and Kate holds her a little tighter. “Tell her the good news,” Kate says firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were able to apprehend everyone in that house,” he continues. “August, Jonathan, and Mabel Cartwright. The two men were stopped on the road fleeing the scene and local authorities arrested them. Our team went in and took in the grandmother. They’re all being held and questioned by the Crows right now and I can assure you that they won’t be hurting you ever again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just the thought of the Caterpillar and the Queen threatens to overwhelm her and she’s glad that Kate is anchoring her to the couch or Alice is afraid that she might just float away and never be found again. “And what will become of my dear Mouse?” she manages. She can feel her gaze unfocusing and she has to blink hard to stay on the ground when all her head wants to do is gravitate towards the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be Jonathan?” he asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His father calls him Johnny but he doesn’t like that. He prefers Mouse.” Easy questions, easy answers. Alice can do this. She isn’t alone; she has Kate to keep her from floating away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He resisted arrest,” he says plainly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What Dad means,” Kate interjects, “is that he was confused when the Crows came to take him into custody. But Dad is going to talk to them and let them know that Mouse just didn’t understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When can I speak to him?” Alice asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s important that he can have some space first,” Kate interrupts before their father can finish whatever thought he had. “You can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see</span>
  </em>
  <span> him, Alice, but I don’t think we can let you talk to him. We have to be able to prove that he didn’t hurt you and it’s easier to do that if we can get his story written down before he can talk to you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t make sense. None of it does. Not this room with the giant black mirror, not this house that is only part of a building, not this city full of too many noises. There is nothing that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> here and Alice can’t breathe because </span>
  <em>
    <span>why can’t she see Mouse</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it is so early and she is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausted</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she wants to go back but she doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>where</span>
  </em>
  <span> she wants to go back yet. Back to the room? Back to sleep? Back to the house with all its horrors? It’s easier there--there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>rules</span>
  </em>
  <span> there. Rules that are structured and real and don’t involve showers with too many nozzles or boxes that move up and down for people to travel in or kitchens full of shiny things or just--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But back there, the Caterpillar and the Queen await her. If she goes back, it will be back to them and she doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>that she just wants--she wants--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stands up and pulls herself out of Kate’s grip, her chest heaving. “I have to see him!” she says, her voice high and tight and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>air </span>
  </em>
  <span>this high in the sky feels so thin. She doesn’t have much room to pace and the light from the single lamp isn’t quite enough to make her brave enough to wander too far. “I can help him understand! Mouse--he has </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> lived out here! He has never seen buildings so tall or crowds so large! He--he doesn’t understand any of it. But I can help him, please, dear sister, you must understand that I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be there so that he doesn’t have to wander alone.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s nervously pacing now, wringing her hands as she goes. She needs the words--she </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> her book so that she knows the script and the rules and the steps and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span> are so important and her book isn’t tangible so she has to go there in her mind but she’s done it before in the dark in the winter when it’s so cold that she can’t sleep and so dark that she can’t read. It’s easy. She knows this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So she was considering in her own mind (as well as she could, for the hot day made her feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of making a daisy-chain would be worth the trouble of getting up and picking the daisies, when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her,” she mumbles. She can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>them starting to tangle on her tongue because--</span>
  <em>
    <span>what comes next</span>
  </em>
  <span>? “There was nothing--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands grasp her shoulders and Alice looks up to see Kate standing there, holding her still. She’s taller than her sister, Alice notes. When did that happen? Has she always been taller? Did Alice spend too long eating and drinking in Wonderland and end up the wrong size? Does it matter? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a book, don’t you?” Kate asks. “Alice in Wonderland?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It fell when you rescued me,” Alice replies. “It’s all I have--please, Kate, all I have is my book and my Mouse. And I need them both. I have to have the words because they are all I know and Mouse--I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be there for him! You don’t understand, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>have </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be with him and I have to keep him safe and--and--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I’ll be able to give you your book but I can get another book just like it. The same words inside, down to the letter. Would that be okay for now, until I can find the book for you?” Kate looks just as desperate and lost as Alice feels and it’s--strange. To see someone so effortlessly in tune with herself is almost unsettling and </span>
  <em>
    <span>yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels normal. Like this is something they’ve done a thousand times. Like Kate has always been with her, picking her up off the ground when they were seven and not-yet-Alice fell off of her bike and scraped her elbow through her long-sleeved shirt, staying up until midnight waiting for a book release, watching movies until both of them were asleep on the floor. Looking at Kate when they’re both tired and lost and confused makes it feel like there’s some sort of bridge between who Alice is now and who Alice once was. And it’s terrifying because, if she isn’t Alice, then who is she? Because if she isn’t Alice then her book doesn’t matter and that means--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book. If she has the book--if she has the book she can reread the lines and remember who Alice is and it will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She will read the words and trace the lines and turn the pages and Alice will be Alice and not this terrifying almost-not-Alice that she feels like she might be becoming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need it,” Alice says and she's dangerously close to hysterical. She can feel herself slipping again, her mind sliding away from reality back into the Wonderland of her mind. None of this feels real. Nothing is solid, not even the ground beneath her. It’s soft, plush carpet that absorbs her steps so there is no sound as she takes each step. Is she even real anymore? Does she exist? She feels lost in this room, in this building, in this </span>
  <em>
    <span>world</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and nothing makes sense and nothing is real.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kate. She knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that Kate is her sister. And her sister is in the book and that means--that means that Kate is real. Or perhaps this is simply a dream. An idle fantasy wished for beneath a tree. And maybe that’s why she can’t hear her footsteps and why they have a giant black mirror in their living room and why everything in the kitchen is black and silver and too shiny. It’s a dream. A nightmare, really, because, when she wakes, she’ll be back under that tree waiting for the Queen to summon her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice is dreaming and all of this is wrong and she must be piecing together what little memories she has from before she became Alice to create this wrong world. This Wonderland with no Wonder. A world with no footsteps because the carpet is too thick. A world with a bed that sinks beneath your touch and bounces back so smoothly it cannot be real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What she needs--what she desperately needs now is the words. Her book. It’s easy when she has the book or--or her Mouse. If she has Mouse and the book then Alice can be okay. Right? Isn’t that all she needs? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she needs the Queen, she thinks as she freezes in her tracks. Maybe--maybe the Queen is what keeps her anchored to the world. Maybe the Queen is the thing that keeps her from floating off out of Wonderland and into something far worse and, with no Queen, what if Alice loses herself? What if Alice finds herself down a rabbit hole that never ends? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s movement around her now. Noise. Someone is touching her. Someone is shaking her but it’s not enough. They aren’t the Queen; they don’t know how to bring her back when she’s like this. There’s another sound. A new voice. More activity. Time feels thick and slow, like cold honey being drizzled into a teapot. Chamomile at night with just a hint of honey when the nights are cold to help the Queen sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone is holding her hands, wrapping them around something. It’s cool and smooth and heavy and blue. It feels like leather and there’s something written in gold on the front. It takes her a long moment but it eventually clicks. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland &amp; Other Stories. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a cat engraved perched on a tree and there’s a rabbit in the corner. It’s beautiful and so much </span>
  <em>
    <span>heavier</span>
  </em>
  <span> than the book Alice had. It serves as an anchor, pulling her gently back down to the ground, making her feel real again. She blinks and cautiously flips the book over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a large illustration of a grinning cat and she traces it with shaking fingers, staring at it in wonder. She has no idea what this is because it isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite </span>
  </em>
  <span>right and yet--maybe it is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That book has the second Alice story, too.” Mary is standing in front of her, devoid of makeup and wearing a pale pink shirt. Her hair is up and she looks like she just woke up to stand here. “Someone gave that to me a long time ago but you can have it. You can take it everywhere with you if you want.” She’s smiling at Alice like it’s the easiest thing in the world and Mary doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alice, she has no obligation to be so kind to her and it’s overwhelming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice flips the book over and carefully peels back the cover. The table of contents stares back at her and she turns the pages until she finds chapter one. It’s there. The words are the same. The font is a little different, the pages are cleaner, the words lined up neater, but it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reads over the words slowly, focusing on each letter to help her find herself the way she always has. She stops shaking by the end of the fourth paragraph. She pauses at the part about the deep well that leads to Wonderland to look up at Mary. “Thank you,” she manages. She can </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. She can breathe and blink and speak. She pulls the book against her chest, holding it tightly, its weight making her feel safe. Real. Whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to sit down?” Mary asks. “You can go back to bed if you’d like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice honestly has no idea what she wants. She has her book--</span>
  <em>
    <span>a </span>
  </em>
  <span>book, really, even though Mary said she could keep it. She isn’t allowed to see Mouse. There are choices here that she isn’t used to having and she has no idea how to answer Mary’s question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that doesn’t seem to deter Mary for long because she gently takes Alice by the hand and pulls her towards the couch, sitting her at one end. The end nearest the lamp, Alice realizes as Mary steps away. The lamp is throwing off enough light from here so that Alice can read and she doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span> why Mary is so inexplicably kind to her. She looks around and Kate is next to her, near enough to touch if she wants to but not invading her space, and Alice wonders how any of this is real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cautiously sets the book in her lap and focuses on it again. The familiar words lull her into a sense of calm, their predictable course making her feel whole again. The sky lightens as she reads and she finally stops when the sun clears the horizon. She looks up and sees that Kate is asleep next to her and Mary is asleep in an armchair across from them. She has no idea where their father is and there’s a sort of stillness that makes it easier to breathe now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what it is about this place that feels different than it had before. Maybe it’s the fact that Alice has the book. Or maybe it’s because no one is watching her as if terrified that she might vanish. Whatever it is, she doesn’t want to question it lest she talk herself into a frenzy again. No, it’s better to sit and focus on her book and not on Mouse or Kate or Mary or the fact that the Caterpillar and the Queen could still very well find her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She suppresses a shiver and carefully closes the book so she can look at it again. The leather cover is firm but yielding and soft despite its rough texture. It looks brand new but there’s a layer of dust on the top of the pages that indicates otherwise. The edges of the pages are gilded and the paper is thick and smooth. The letters are clear and the pictures scattered throughout the pages are fascinating. She cautiously flips the book open again to look at the table of contents. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The usual chapters are listed but, unlike her book, there is both a foreword and many, </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> chapters after the end of Alice’s book. It’s equal parts intriguing and terrifying to know that there is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>second </span>
  </em>
  <span>book. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alice Through the Looking Glass</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Is that what this is? Has </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>gone through a looking glass? What </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a Looking Glass? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns to the indicated page and carefully traces over the picture she sees. It’s the same Alice as in the earlier pictures stepping through an oval picture frame. The thought of reading this--of </span>
  <em>
    <span>experiencing</span>
  </em>
  <span> this--is a little overwhelming for right now. It’s a large step out of her comfort zone and Alice can’t bear for her book to become something she doesn’t know. Instead, she skips back to the story she knows and focuses on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She manages to read four more pages before a door slams open. The book tumbles to the floor and Kate and Mary are both jolted awake and Alice freezes. The door shuts with a sharp bang and Kate looks </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she gets off of the couch after throwing Alice a concerned look. “What happened?” Mary asks, still seated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The bitch is claiming that she knows nothing about Beth.” It’s their father and Alice shrinks on the couch, his tone making it hard to breathe. “She’s trying to get us to think she has dementia. She has an oxygen tank so she can’t possibly be a threat! And GCPD is going to believe her because they don’t want to have to have a trial for her because it’ll cost them money they don’t want to spend and keeping her in prison in her health--!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that he’s talking about the Queen and it makes her feel sick and heartbroken and just--devastated. They had promised that she would be locked up. They had sworn that the Queen would never be able to touch her again but if the Queen is </span>
  <em>
    <span>free</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she will </span>
  <em>
    <span>find</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, that’s enough!” Kate snaps. Her voice is firm but low and she glances at Alice again, checking to make sure that she’s okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book is on the floor next to Alice’s feet and she slowly bends down to pick it up, cradling it against her chest like a shield. It isn’t much but the weight of it makes her feel safer than she had a moment ago and she doesn’t dare move, not trusting her father enough. He sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> angry and she knows it’s only a matter of time before she becomes the target of that anger. He is, after all, talking about Beth, and Alice is </span>
  <em>
    <span>supposed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be Beth. But she isn’t. Not anymore, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can figure it out later,” Kate continues, softer this time but still as firm. “What matters is that she’s here with us. The rest of it can wait. And you have the best attorneys and investigators on your side so just… be happy that she’s here. Please, Dad. Beth needs us. Alice needs us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s silence and Alice is focused on her the floor in front of her because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>be Beth. She knows that she must be her but she doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel</span>
  </em>
  <span> like her. She doesn’t remember this place. She doesn’t remember her father. She remembers Kate but only in bits and pieces. When will their father start being angry at </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>? How long until he realizes that too much has changed and she can only ever be Alice now? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, kiddo,” he finally says, sounding defeated. He drops something metal that jangles--keys, maybe?--and opens the fridge. He rummages around before shutting it again. “No matter what claims she makes, I’m going to have two officers watching her at all times. Same with the others. No escapes, no releases on technicalities. Everything is being recorded and searched and I’m going to make sure they’re locked up for the rest of their lives.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate sits down on the couch again and gently sets her hand on Alice’s shoulder, squeezing gently as if to reassure her. Alice still hasn’t looked up, still not trusting herself to speak. The book is pressed hard against her chest and the pressure helps remind her that she isn’t alone anymore. She has the words again. They’re neat and beautiful and exactly as they should be and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>knowing </span>
  </em>
  <span>that they’re there means that Alice can still exist in this moment instead of tumbling back into the Wonderland inside her own mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it help if you have an official statement?” Mary asks. “I know you talked to her last night but you really should get an official statement on record. The sooner she talks to someone, the better, right? And Alice has her book now so it’ll be easier, right Alice?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A statement. Alice doesn’t entirely know what that will entail but--she can do it. She can try, at the very least. If it will lock up the Queen and the Caterpillar--Alice can do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mary, she’s not--” Kate begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it,” Alice agrees. “If I need to--to make a </span>
  <em>
    <span>statement</span>
  </em>
  <span> to someone then I will. If it will help Mouse and it will keep the Queen and the Caterpillar far, far away from us--I will do it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to,” Kate protests gently. “We have more than enough evidence to put them away for the rest of their lives.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Queen might slip free,” Alice says, finally looking up. She doesn’t know why Kate doesn’t seem to believe her or seem to think that the possibility of the Queen coming to find them terribly frightening. “You haven’t seen what she can do yet, dear sister. She’s never pleased and an unhappy Queen means an unhappy Alice. For who else does she have but Alice to blame for things?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wonders if someone has ever hit Kate. Has anyone ever poured hot tea on her? Forced her to sew faces onto the face of someone she loved? Has anyone ever held Kate by the hair and pushed her face into a sink full of dishwater and tried to fill her lungs with it because she’d chipped someone’s favorite teacup? Will Kate ever understand? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there someone you trust to take her statement?” Kate asks, not looking away from Alice. She’s already given in, Alice notes with relief. Kate isn’t trying to convince her to change her mind. She’s acting like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>trusts</span>
  </em>
  <span> Alice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a cop I know. She’s tough so she won’t balk at getting answers that hurt but she’s not going to push her too hard. She’s young, too, so that should help. I’ll set things up if you’re sure this is the right thing to do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it,” Alice says, gently reaching out to take one of Kate’s hands. She doesn’t entirely know what taking a statement will entail but she knows that it’s the best thing to do right now. She has to make sure that Mouse stays free and that the Queen and the Caterpillar can never go near them again. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alice tugs at the clothes she’s wearing, feeling awkward in them. The dress is pink and soft and Mary had to explain that it’s something she’s had in the back of her (alarmingly expansive) closet for years and hasn’t gotten rid of yet. But Alice, as Mary pointed out, is a skyscraper compared to her which means that the dress is too short. Which means that Alice is also wearing a pair of what Mary called </span>
  <em>
    <span>workout leggings</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Kate had to dig out of a suitcase. They’re also too short so they hit above her ankles but Alice doesn’t complain. It’s certainly better than what she had been wearing to sleep or when they had taken her clothes before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s wearing a pair of Kate’s shoes since, fortunately, their feet are about the same size. Mary gives Alice a pair of sunglasses with an understanding smile as they step out of the car in front of an enormous building. It’s dark and towering and intimidating and the sunglasses help even though the day isn’t particularly sunny. Maybe it’s the fact that they’re tinted pink and everything has a rosy hue, making the imposing grey sky and black mirrored building look less frightening. Whatever it is, Alice is immensely grateful and lets Kate lead her into the building, her book held firmly in her free hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s another elevator. Another button to press. Another set of doors sliding quietly open and then shut and the quiet and measured dings as the numbers light up. Alice doesn’t entirely trust them but, with Kate, she knows she’ll be okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors open and, this time, Alice is aware of just </span>
  <em>
    <span>how </span>
  </em>
  <span>high up they are. The number on the panel had said 35 and, even though she doesn’t quite know what that means, she does know that they must be very high up. No wonder these people are called Crows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She keeps the sunglasses on as the doors open and they’re in the same busy room as they were before. Was it last night? This morning? A week ago? Time doesn’t seem to mean much to Alice anymore and the oatmeal that Mary had insisted she eat before they left sits heavy in her stomach. “Can I see Mouse?” Alice asks as their father steps off of the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stops and turns, looking at her for a long moment. “After your statement, I can bring you to him,” he agrees reluctantly. He nods firmly at a few people before leading the way through the slew of desks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you want to do this?” Kate asks again. She’s asked twelve times already and Alice </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that it should be frustrating but it’s… sweet. Kind. Exactly what a sister should be. Which is exactly why Alice has to do this--if she wants to be there for Mouse the way Kate is for her, she has to be willing to do what it takes. Which means she needs to talk to this person and make this statement and make sure that Mouse can be free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice nods and Mary opens the door for them and Kate takes a deep breath before leading them into the room. It’s the same room as before. When they had gone to talk to their father. Or--is it? Alice doesn’t know. All she knows is that the world is rose-tinted and a little smoky with the sunglasses and she isn’t sure that she wants to take them off just yet. With them on, it feels a little more like Wonderland. More like home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a woman sitting at the table in the middle of the room and behind her is a large mirror. The woman has long, dark hair and bright brown eyes. She smiles and her cheeks dimple and she stands up to meet them. She takes Kate’s hand and lifts it up and down and says that her name is Maggie. And then she offers her hand to Alice and Alice has absolutely no idea what she wants. What a curious gesture to move one’s hand like that. It seems absurd--so much so that Alice uses her free hand to wrap around the spine of her book just so that it’s out of the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman--Maggie--seems to take it in stride and sits back at the table. Kate and Alice sit across from her and Maggie is smiling gently and she’s talking to Kate about training and there’s a sort of heavy sadness that settles on both their shoulders that Alice doesn’t understand. But, for once, it isn’t aimed at her. And then Kate shakes it off and Maggie is holding something much like the pocket watches everyone seems to have except this one is matte black with a few strange buttons on it. It’s for recording, Maggie explains, as she presses a few buttons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This can end at any time,” Maggie says once she puts the device back on the table between them. “And Kate can stay with you or leave, it’s all up to you. You can take a break or keep going or tell me that you don’t want to talk about it and I promise you I’ll respect that. Do you understand?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Alice says, her voice a little shaky. She doesn’t know why things would need to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>recorded </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she has to trust Kate’s judgement. If Kate thinks that it’s okay then Alice can do this. If she doesn’t--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you tell me who you are?” Maggie asks, cutting off Alice’s thoughts before they can solidify. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Alice,” Alice explains, feeling foolish for saying so because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that she is supposed to be Beth. “I know--I know that I haven’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> been Alice. And that--Kate is my sister. I remember her and I remember the car crash but I can’t remember anything right. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that our mother gave us matching necklaces and that she was with us and that Kate and I would eat waffles and--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And nothing. There’s nothing else there, just a gaping void where happy memories should be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay,” Maggie says gently, her voice low and even and soothing. “What’s the first thing you remember doing as Alice? Or any first memory you can think of.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing she did? She doesn’t know where Alice started. All she knows is that Alice was created in Wonderland. “Thread,” she says finally. “A thin, delicate needle with the finest thread he could find. It’s difficult to stitch skin at first. And it hurt--Mouse always says that it doesn’t but I can see it in his eyes. Washing my hands afterwards. The blood is difficult to get out from under your fingernails,” she explains and the world feels like it’s slipping again as she talks about this. “It’s for Mouse, though, and I have to do it for him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book is on the table and she carefully runs her fingers across the cover, focusing on the ridges of the inlaid picture and the way they feel. She traces the patterns to give herself something to do and she finds it soothing. “Can you tell me about Mouse?” Maggie asks after a moment of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my brother,” Alice explains as her fingers carefully trace the title of the book. Such a long title with lots of curly letters that provide a path for her to follow. “I… I was in Wonderland for him. He needs someone his own age, you see, or he would be lonely.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So does that mean that his father is also </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>father?” Maggie asks it without accusation but with purpose; if it were coming from someone else, it might feel like a threat but it doesn’t. And Kate is next to Alice, a solid presence that makes her feel safe enough to simply answer without fumbling for an answer that is the least likely to incur someone’s ire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, of course not,” Alice says with a frown. “The Caterpillar is just… the Caterpillar.” She doesn’t know how else to describe it. “He’s the one who worked so hard to help Mouse. You see, there was a terrible accident when Mouse was young and it left him disfigured. The Caterpillar worked tirelessly to find a solution to allow Mouse to be normal but it wasn’t until he had the idea that I might be better suited to fixing him that a solution was found.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you tell me more about the Caterpillar?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what else there is to tell. He is Mouse’s father. The Queen is his mother. The Caterpillar is working on a long term solution for Mouse since what I do is only enough for a few weeks at best. The skin from fresh corpses always works best but it’s only a matter of time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice can </span>
  <em>
    <span>feel </span>
  </em>
  <span>Kate’s anger radiating from her but she knows that it isn’t directed at her. Still, it’s unsettling and she’s glad that she has the book to focus on. “And what about the Queen?” Maggie asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice freezes. Her hand settles firmly on the top of her book, pressing it into the table as she stares at its cover. She doesn’t want to talk about this. She doesn’t want to think about this. But--she has to. She has to do this so that the Queen will not be free. She has to do it but she’s terrified. More than that. “She’s--she--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Words are difficult when they aren’t already set out for her. There is no script here; this isn’t Wonderland. She has to think of her own words, her own story, but it feels like she can’t grasp at the threads of sentences while thinking about the Queen. But she has to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>--even if it’s not everything, it’s a start. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tea,” she blurts. “The Queen needs her tea. Never too hot or the Queen will remind me how hot it really is and never too sweet but never too bitter--” she’s speaking now, quick words that feel like they’re snowballing. “I have to be prompt--every single day I have to be ready or she’ll be angry with me. Breakfast must be perfect and she takes hers in her bed and dishes have to be scrubbed promptly after she’s done and Mouse dragged mud into the house yesterday and I have to clean it up before she sees it. I don’t deserve my youth, I waste it, I’m a distraction for Mouse, they should just get rid of me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Breathing feels difficult all of a sudden. Like everything is suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>too </span>
  </em>
  <span>real and she can’t slip backwards the way she usually does. She feels far too much and it’s overwhelming and she’s saying things. Words. Sentences? Is she begging? Is she crying? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alice!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate is shaking her, holding her firmly by her shoulders, desperately trying to meet her eye. Alice blinks herself back to life and her heart is beating too fast and the room is spinning a little but it’s not so bad. Not with Kate. “You don’t have to keep doing this,” Kate says gently now that Alice can focus again. “You can stop here; Maggie should have enough for now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it enough?” Alice asks Kate before looking up at Maggie. “If I leave, will it be enough?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maggie hesitates before shaking her head. “Unfortunately, if we can’t prove that she is lucid… we can’t try her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s bullshit,” Kate spits as she kicks the leg of the table. “She deserves to rot for what she did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can keep going,” Alice says. “I’ll answer your questions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Maggie looks between Alice and Kate, waiting for them to say something before continuing. “But let’s talk about something else for the time being until you’re up for it again. Tell me more about Mouse.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mouse is a much easier topic to cover and Alice feels herself settling just a little because of it. “He’s the only one who truly cares about me,” she says and her fingers stutter into motion again, cautiously tracing the pattern on the book again. “Before the Queen--I spent most of my days in the basement. After chores and before dinner, I simply waited in the basement for him to be done with his lessons. But he would get an hour before I had to start dinner if we were both well behaved that day so he could spend time with me. He would bring me bits of fabric or interesting leaves he found. The Caterpillar says that he loves him but Mouse and I have our doubts. It seemed so cruel to keep Mouse inside even after I learned how to make him presentable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s quiet for a moment before deciding that the whole truth is important. “But we never asked the Caterpillar. I was only ever there for Mouse; if Mouse no longer needed me, the Caterpillar might get rid of me. Mouse has always been a prisoner there. Before I fell down the Rabbit Hole, he was there alone.” Her cheeks are wet with tears and she pauses to swipe at them with the back of her hand, startled by her show of emotion. “I don’t know why the Caterpillar kept Mouse home. Mouse--he was supposed to get his face fixed and then he was supposed to go out into the world and do wonderful things. But the Caterpillar always talked of when Mouse would be ready but days have passed and passed and passed and he was still there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what happened to Mouse’s face? Was he born like that or was there some sort of accident?” Maggie asks. “The more we know about him, the better chance we have of being able to help him, Alice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice hesitates but she isn’t entirely sure why; she trusts Kate and Kate seems to trust Maggie so it should be fine. “His mother did it to him,” she explains reluctantly as her hand shifts to lay flat against the book, her thumb tracing the contours of its spine. The glasses Mary had given her are still making the room pink and the blue of the leather looks more purple in this light. It’s something easy to focus on, the way the color changes where the glasses end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was angry with the Caterpillar and she burned everything. Their old house. The Caterpillar’s things. Mouse’s things. She even tried to keep Mouse in the burning house with her but the Caterpillar got him out but not before Mouse’s mother ruined his face. She must’ve been very angry to destroy everything the Caterpillar loved.” Her voice is flat, distant. Like it doesn’t matter. It’s easier to think of it like this. It’s easier to feel nothing at all than to let it consume her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s why Mouse and I have always understood each other. The last time he saw his mother was when she burned and I--” she chokes a little at this part because the memory feels clearer than it ever has before. “The last time I saw my mother, her body was in the front seat of the car. Her head was gone. And the water was cold--</span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>cold--and all I could think about was Kate. How Kate would surely find me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers it too well. It’s been so dark for so long that remembering it now, out of the blue, feels overwhelming. “The Caterpillar had promised that he would call my dad. He told me that he would find him but it was all a lie. He was never going to let me go.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers her hands tied together, the loose nail she used to free herself, the phonecall that led to nothing. And all of that--that is from </span>
  <em>
    <span>before </span>
  </em>
  <span>she became Alice. That was Beth. Beth who had cried and begged and struggled to be free. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here now, Alice,” Kate says quietly, sounding as raw as Alice feels. “You’re safe with us now. I’m never going to let you go again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice exhales slowly and nods, unable to say anything. She doesn’t know who she is anymore. She remembers bits and pieces of being Beth but--not enough. The memories don’t feel like they belong to her. They feel like something she read in a book somewhere. Or a dream. Maybe Alice is still sitting beneath the tree with the book in her lap and the window of the Queen’s room will slide open and Alice will be startled into wakefulness with an impatient shriek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Is it terrible that Alice aches for that reality? The reality where the rules are simple and neat and understood? A reality that exists within a single house and a shed? Is it wrong to want the ease of simplicity? The silence of stagnation? Maybe Alice can’t exist outside of that place. Maybe this is how Alice dies and, in her place, there is only </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something that isn’t Beth but isn’t entirely Alice, either. Just a corrupted echo of a girl who used to be loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t remember what Maggie had last asked her but she also knows that, if she doesn’t talk, Alice might cease to exist. The intricacies of personhood are too complex for her to deal with and she needs to speak so that she can </span>
  <em>
    <span>prove </span>
  </em>
  <span>that she is real. “I don’t know what you need me to say,” she says. “All I know is that the Queen used me as an outlet for her miserable life.” Her voice is flat but firm; she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>Alice. She isn’t something to be forgotten. She isn’t going to simply fade away so that Beth can come back. She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “She spent every second looking for fault. Burning me with hot tea when I brought it too hot or hitting me for it being too cold. Whatever she tells you is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lie.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what she’s doing--she hurts people because she wants to. She is </span>
  <em>
    <span>evil</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her jaw is clenched tightly now as she feels the same cognitive dissonance as before. She is Alice and she is somehow also Beth and she is lost and found all at once. She doesn’t like the way it feels. She feels like two people crammed into one. Or--or maybe that’s just what she thinks she </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel like. Are Beth and Alice different people? Where does Beth end and Alice begin? The questions feel like they’re growing in her head, filling her to the brim with questions about what is and isn’t real and suddenly the only thing she can hear is her heart beating too loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book is still beneath her palm and Alice does her best to focus on it, on the press of the spine against her thumb, the texture of leather, the rich blue of the cover, the gold running along the edge of the pages. Alice’s story is in the book so she </span>
  <em>
    <span>must</span>
  </em>
  <span> be real. She is real. Except--she doesn’t feel real. She feels hazy, like she’s been cut out of a different story and pasted into this one. She doesn’t belong here, not among these shiny walls and reasonable people. She isn’t one of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are voices around her again. Soft. Warm. Kind. And someone is touching her. Shaking her? She doesn’t know. She feels nothing, not even the book. There are more words said but they don’t make any sense to Alice. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Kate is here but she can’t seem to get herself out of her head. She feels like half her mind has been turned off and she can’t process anything anymore. There’s nothing. Absolutely nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how long she sits there but someone is reading. Soft and even and calm. Familiar words that help her feel like she isn’t drowning. Or lost at sea. Or floating away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A door slams shut and Alice jumps, startled by the sudden sound, ready to bolt. Surely the Queen has found her. Or the Caterpillar will be there, demanding that she get back into the house before someone sees her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it’s just her father looking angry again and Alice feels the world click into place belatedly as he’s in the middle of saying something to Maggie. “--needs to do a full psych eval on her before she can claim dementia. I will </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>have the woman who tortured my daughter for almost a decade out on the street. You can tell your Captain that, Sawyer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s angry and demanding and it’s terrifying and yet--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Queen of Hearts, she made some tarts, All on a summer day: The Knave of Hearts, he stole those tarts, And took them quite away,” Alice says. That must be who he is. The Knave. He had taken something precious to the Queen and yet--the Queen is the one on trial. But, like in the book, the evidence doesn’t seem to add up. And the Knave is here and he’s taking Alice far, far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s quiet now that she’s spoken and Kate is still sitting next to her, the book open on the table. Had she been reading from it, Alice wonders, or had she simply been searching for answers? “Are you here, Alice?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Alice says and it’s exactly like the book, exactly like the script where the Knave is on trial and then Alice is called to testify. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get her home,” Kate says, looking up at Maggie and their father. “You should have enough evidence by now. You can take her statement again later but right now what my sister needs is rest and to be reacclimated to being her own person.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Kate,” Maggie agrees. “I’ll try to do the best with what we have but if I need anything else from Alice, I’ll contact you. And Alice?” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper. “This is my phone number. If you want to talk or have any questions or think of </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> you can call me. I’m sure your sister will catch you up on all the latest technology trends so feel free to text me if you’d rather talk that way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice takes the rectangular piece of paper and stares at it. Maggie’s name is on it and a number beneath it. There’s also another word beneath--sawyermar@gcpd.gov. She has no idea what the strange symbol in the middle of the name is but she doesn’t ask. She also doesn’t understand what Maggie means about </span>
  <em>
    <span>text </span>
  </em>
  <span>but she figures that Kate will explain it later. “Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With one more warm smile, Maggie leaves the room. It’s quiet for a little bit too long before their dad clears his throat. “I have to stay behind for a while. I’m going to take a nap in my office but I want to be on hand for any new information. I also don’t want to run the risk that someone will try to pull something with the prisoners. Catherine will be home from her business trip tonight--she offered to fly home early but I knew you would need space.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You told me I could talk to Mouse,” Alice says as he turns to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His shoulders sag and he exhales deeply. “You can </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. I don’t want to risk anything happening to you. He’s in cell four. You can talk to him through the door but that’s it.” He squares his shoulders and leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Alice. It’s time to head out. And--before you talk to him, Mouse has been through a lot, too. I’m not sure what happened when the Crows went to the house but it probably wasn’t good. I’m sure he’s scared right now so if he says or does anything, that doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean</span>
  </em>
  <span> that it’s how he actually feels.” Kate carefully closes the book and stands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alice follows a moment later, not really understanding why Kate is talking about it like that. “He’s my </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mouse</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says with a frown. She’s still shaky on her feet and the world still feels hazy but she can push past it for this moment. And being on her feet helps a bit, the act of taking steps a point of focus so that she doesn’t tumble backwards into her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kate offers her the book and smiles when Alice takes it before taking her free hand and gently guiding her out of the room. The sheer size of the main room is still baffling--the ceiling looks like it’s twenty feet high at the very least--and there’s still the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bustling</span>
  </em>
  <span> that makes her skin crawl. Everyone is wearing black and why does the world have so many pocket watches? There’s the click of keys and there are screens </span>
  <em>
    <span>everywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Flat and shiny and terrifyingly lifelike, nothing at all like the TV Alice is used to. Fortunately, Kate is there as a guide, tugging her along when she gets stuck, making sure that no one stops them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something shiny and pink catches her eye and she sees the sunglasses she had been wearing hooked onto Kate’s shirt. When had she taken them off? Does it matter? Still, it’s something to distract her as she walks through another door and into a hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This place is quiet. The hallway is long and brightly lit and there doesn’t appear to be anyone here. There are shiny black spheres hanging from the ceiling that look almost insectoid. It’s unsettling and the quiet no longer feels peaceful. Instead, it feels menacing and she is glad that she has the book and Kate with her. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm hacking away at this fic a few hundred words or so a day but i don't want to post things in awkward chunks so updates might be sporadic since i'll post the chapters as scenes instead of length. But thank you for reviewing and leaving kudos!! They really do make my day</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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